


Wretched and Divine

by San121



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consensual Somnophilia, Dimitri feels like a monster, F/M, Honestly I just wanted Crazy Dimitri idolizing and rutting against sleeping Byleth, It's dark and sick but it makes an interesting story, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Please practice self-care while reading this, Rape/Non-con Elements, headcanons abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San121/pseuds/San121
Summary: All he knows is a few simple facts. One, his name is meaningless. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is dead, either to execution or foul murder. Two, he knows this place. Where they followed Professor to get a revelation. Where that damned woman revealed herself for the bitch that she was. And three, is that he’s never seen anything more beautiful or damning than what is before him. Curled in the throne far too big for her, he sees his old professor either asleep or dead.Where Dimitri finds Byleth asleep in the Holy Tomb during the five year gap and does things he regrets later.





	Wretched and Divine

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, PLEASE practice self-care while reading this. I don't care if you hate it or like it, if you, as a reader, get uncomfortable, stop reading this piece. This is supposed to be me stretching my darker writing muscles, not something I'm using to make people uncomfortable. Please take the needed precautions that this story would need.
> 
> This story contains themes of: non-con, sexual assault, rape, pseudo-biblical themes, mention of urination on a person, intercrural sex, and later consensual somnophilia exploration. If any of these trigger you, please leave this story now. If these make you uncomfortable, but you still wish to continue, please pause/stop your reading and practice self-care when you need it.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how or why or what for. All he knows is a few simple facts. One, his name is meaningless. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is dead, either to execution or foul murder. Two, he knows this place. Where they followed Pro- _saviorbelovedgoddessneed_\- fes- _Byleth-_ sor to get a revelation. Where that damned _woman_ revealed herself for the bitch that she was. And three, is that he’s never seen anything more beautiful or damning than what is before him. Curled in the throne far too big for her, he sees his- _belovedloversaviormateBylethgoddessgodsend-_ old professor either asleep or dead. He limps up to her, his hand trembling as it touches the pale green of her hair.

“Professor,” he sighs- _chantspraysscreamstastes_-, his hand moving her hair out of her face. He feels her breath against the back of his glove, feels the material move against his skin. With a growl, he pulls back from her and rips off the damned thing, allowing him to touch the divine being before him with his filthy hands.

“Professor,” he gasps, dragging his fingers along her cheek, over her lashes and eyelids, across her nose. He stops and thumbs at her mouth, the pale pink of her lips feeling plush and soft under his thumb. His cock twitches in interest with each soft push he makes. Suddenly, his Goddess sighs and shifts slightly in her sleep, her teeth parting to welcome his thumb and her hair settling off her shoulder. His one good eye focuses on the creamy expanse she revealed to him, his breath starting to shorten as his cock fills within his trousers while he presses his thumb against her tongue, petting the pink muscle with the calloused pad.

“Oh Professor,” he moans, rising to tower over her. He reaches out eagerly, shifting and adjusting the beauty before him. He takes a step back and feels accomplished in sitting her upright on this too big throne. Purring in his throat, he drops to his knees and carefully, reverently, pulls down and off her shorts, tights, and boots. Her area is beautiful and other worldly to his diseased, mad mind. He leans forward, eager for a taste, even though he knows that he’ll never have her flavor. The feeling of her under his mouth is just as divine as he hoped, his eye rolling back with a gleeful groan. He presses his mouth against her opening as best he can, inhaling through his nose as often as possible to get her heady scent etched into his brain. His nose nudges a little bud at the top of her opening, which gets a jerk from his beautiful professor. He pulls back briefly to see if she has awoken, only to see a pale flush compliment her pale skin. Another sigh leaves his Goddess, her head lulling to the side, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulder. He moans at the sight, his fingers on his ungloved hand moving up to feel her.

“Professor,” he coos upon feeling resistance against his fingers when he tries to press inside. A virgin. His beautiful Goddess is a virgin. He could take her now, like this. Make her his and his alone. However, some part of himself that can barely call itself Dimitri is repulsed by this idea. It wants the first time together to be special, to be good for both of them. Not the desperate rutting that he currently has in mind. Reluctantly, he agrees with the stray thought. It wouldn’t do to have her without her knowledge, otherwise, when she wakes, she could go to someone else. He won’t allow that.

He turns back to her thighs, thick with muscle and so soft to his touch. He can’t stop the feral grin that crosses his face when he readjusts his beloved professor, undoing his trousers enough to let his cock spring free before shoving it into the small gap between her thighs, right beneath her pretty cunt.

“_Byleth_,” he moans again, fucking her thighs like the animal he is. His hands manage to slip under her armor, groping and pinching her breasts. His mouth finds her throat and shoulder, nipping and licking and kissing and biting at the skin before him. His filth spreads onto her, making her no less divine, but marking her as _his_.

“_Byleth_,” he hisses, leaning to her ear to bite and tug at the lobe. He grins when she replies with a sleepy moan, still asleep even as he ruts against her. His orgasm builds quickly from the friction, her slick dripping onto his erection even as she continues to sleep. He snarls and growls, biting into her shoulder as he releases between her thighs. He shudders, his hand trailing down to rub at her pussy, messy and unknowing of where he should focus for her release. However, it doesn’t matter as his beloved jolts in his arms, a fresh gush of slick dripping onto his softening cock. He purrs again, pressing kisses against her shoulder and neck. He sets her back onto the throne, Dimitri in his mind begging him to clean her and redress her. He complies, dropping to his knees willingly to lick up the combined mess on her thighs. He trembles, moaning happily, as he worships her soft skin with his tongue, determined not to miss even a little slick that escapes from her heavenly cunt. Once she is cleaned, he reverently redresses her, his hands smoothing over her tights, her shorts, her boots, as one cleans delicate glass. He presses a singular kiss to her forehead, before pulling back.

She curls back into the too big throne, the Sword of the Creator pulsing softly, like a heartbeat, within its scarab. He gazes at her longingly before reluctantly turning and leaving this place, prepared to hunt down more Imperial dogs and rats that wish to ransack more of his haven, his _home_.

* * *

He visits every few days, never knowing how long he’s down in the depts of the Holy Tomb. Days to weeks to months, he visits his Goddess, sleeping still on the too big throne.

Some days, he removes her clothing to rut against her, never penetrating her virgin cunt or her ass. He caved into fucking her mouth, but could never shake Dimitri enough to release inside. After each session, he licks her clean. Slick, sweat, seed, and once, his own urine, have all touched his tasteless tongue during his cleanings. He would reverently redress her and kiss her forehead before taking his leave.

Other days, he would simply lick her clean. Lapping at musk and sweat, at her armor until it gleamed, he cleaned her religiously during these days. Sometimes, he would bring actual water and cloth, gently washing her hair after licking the rest clean. His hands would wander, certainly, but he wouldn’t defile her like his rutting days. Those days, he would press his lips to her throat, whispering soft prayers into her softer skin. Prayers that she would awake and hold him close. Prayers she didn’t answer. Only once did he feel bold enough to kiss her mouth. It felt like home.

Other days still, he would kneel before her, staring up at her like he had years ago. His beloved professor, his goddess, his love. His one blue eye would never waver from her holy visage. His hands would clasp together, praying for her green eyes to open and gaze upon him with the affection he craves. That she would see him, not as a beast or a monster, but as a man. These are the days he feels the most like Dimitri. The most like who he once was and who he could have been.

* * *

It was during what he thought was the Ethereal Moon, that a great flood washed through where Byleth slept. He knows that one day, the tomb was bare of water, and the next, it was flooded with his goddess missing. He raged, howling and roaring, slaughtering anyone who came too close. He even lashed out at those that haunt him, those that would quiet when in her presence, now howled back.

_You couldn’t keep her. You didn’t deserve her. She was a reward, one you aren’t worthy of. She was only in the way. Give us the Emperor’s head. Give us the Woman’s head._

“Shut up!” he demands, the ghosts never listening. He drops to his knees, tired, so tired. Pulling himself closer, tucked under his cloak, he blinks blearily. His savior is gone, again. Heaven had given him a taste and damned him. There would be no real rest in his sleep, he knows even as his eye falls shut.

Soft clicking is what awakes him. He blinks slowly, still drained, still so, so tired. But, he raises his head, gazing at the cursed vision of beauty he sees. Byleth, stepping into the light, that damning blue dagger on her belt, the Sword of the Creator hanging quietly from her side. She pauses before walking forward, offering him her hand. He scoffs, tearing his eye from her ethereal light.

“I should’ve known…” he growls, turning his face further into the safe darkness, “ …that one day… you would be haunting me as well.”

* * *

It’s been months since the Blue Lions reunited, only two of which Dimitri is himself and not the beast he once was. Lord Rodrigue is dead, but he lives on in memories and fond recollections of both Dimitri and Felix, despite the latter’s issues with chivalry still remaining. Byleth looks at him with such relief and pride that Dimitri feels sick. Despite all he’s doing to right everything he failed at doing, he still wronged her. He still wronged this beautiful, strong woman, by taking advantage of her at her most vulnerable.

“Professor,” he calls, finally finding the courage to speak to her about the atrocities he committed to her. She turns to him, blinking soft green eyes up to him questioningly.

“May I speak with you? Alone?” he asks, glancing over at Dudue. The giant of a man sighs, but willingly leaves, while Byleth gives him a small smile and a nod. Dimitri swallows down the bile climbing his throat, turning to lead her to the Cathedral. Their walk is silent, his head full of how she will react when she hears of what horrors he did to her. How he used her for his own pleasure. How he rutted against her skin and released his seed onto her body. How, once, after rutting against her stomach, he relieved himself on her, like a dog marking its territory. The disgust for himself is emence, but it will be nothing compared to hers. Arriving at the Cathedral, he beckons her to the confessionals. She eyes him curiously, but complies, stepping into the portion where the priest would reside. Taking a deep breath, Dimitri steps into the sinner’s box.

“I confess, Professor, that I had found you. Almost a year before our agreed upon meeting date, I had wondered into the Holy Tomb and found you on the throne. My… madness convinced me that you were holy, a goddess sent to me. You slept on the throne, curled up, much like a child,” he stops, swallowing around the lump that crawls up his throat.

“Go on,” she coaxes through the grate. Dimitri can feel the beast that still resides within him purr at her voice, feel how it wants to claim her. He takes another deep breath.

“I… touched you. First, it was to see that you were real. Moving hair from your face, looking upon you in mad reverence. Then, it was about pleasure. I… removed you clothes… and pressed my mouth to you. I tasted you like a starved wolf with fresh meat. Eventually… I bent you over and… rutted between your thighs… This treatment of you… This _rape_… lasted for months. I didn’t penetrate you, but, I still did those horrible things to you, on your breasts, your thighs, your stomach, your face,” he confesses. Pausing, he barks out a humorless laugh, admitting, “Once, I was so mad that I decided to mark you as the feral dogs wandering the monastery would mark territory.” He stops again, clenching his eyes closed, waiting for the horrified gasp, the disgusted snarl, anything.

“There is more you need to tell,” she says instead. Dimitri gasps, shock filling him before he remembers. This is his beloved professor, his treasured friend, the only woman he’d wish to marry. Of course she would know that he has more to tell.

“I would clean you,” he continues softly, his hands gripping his knees tightly, “with my tongue. I’d lap up the seed and slick and other fluids from my deed, and swallow them like I though they were the nectar of Gods. Then, I would redress you, just as reverently as I looked upon you. After my deeds were done, after my lust was fulfilled, I would kiss you on the forehead… Like you were some child.” He snarls those last words out, angry and disgusted with himself. Byleth is quiet, on the other side. He wishes he could figure out what she was thinking.

“You did other things, didn’t you,” she coaxes. Still knowing that he has more to say.

“Other days, I would clean you with my tongue. Licking at any skin that was exposed, licking at your armor. Some days, I would bring water and cloth to wash your hair, pressing my mouth to your throat while reciting prayers… the ones used to call back the Goddess during the Rite of Rebirth. Then, there were days where I simply kneeled before the throne and stared at you. Watched you like a worshipper,” he tells, remembering every time he did such a thing. Those days of worshipful watching were few and far between his rutting and cleaning days. The days of watching always came after days of no battle, no Imperial soldiers to kill or thieves to dispose of. He is drawn from his thoughts by the door to his side opening. There, standing in the light of the Cathedral, is Byleth. The light illuminates a halo around her green hair, her green eyes shining with tears unshed, her pale pink mouth set in a neutral line. Without thinking, Dimitri slides off the small stool and on his knees, tears blurring his one eye. She’s going to leave him. He needs to tell her that he won’t survive that. He needs her to stay with the Blue Lions. He needs her to stay with _him_.

“Please, don’t leave me. I can take you hating me and refusing to speak to me, but please don’t leave my side,” he begs, his hands hovering uncertainly before him, longing to clasp her own hands but hesitant to do so. His blood-soaked hands have done enough to her for a lifetime, they don’t need to defile her any more. Dimitri startles again, when Byleth takes his hands willingly, holding them softly.

“While what you did to me was wrong, you regret it,” she states, her eyes never leaving his own. Dimitri nods numbly, watching as she crouches down, a small smile gracing her face.

“I forgive you,” she tells him. Dimitri blinks, before a sob escapes him, almost bowling her over as he apologizes, over and over. He clings to her, his light bringer, his angel of the Goddess, desperate for her to truly understand how he regrets his actions. All he gets in reply is her hand running soothingly through his hair and the words, “I forgive you,” repeated just as often as his apologies.

* * *

The war has been over for years, and yet, Dimitri still wakes early. Sitting up in his marriage bed, he looks around the room. His cloak hangs on the chair at his desk, her robes hung up carefully beside his royal coat. Their shelves full of knick-knacks from her days as a mercenary and his as an atoning king traveling his lands. The curtains keep most of the sunrise’s light out, but a thin strip still sneaks in, lighting his face and his wife’s chest.

Dimitri looks down, smiling softly at Byleth, who sleeps on peacefully. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to her mouth. He pauses, recalling how his wife, beautifully shy, confessed that she wanted him to fuck her while she slept. How she wanted to feel him in her dreams and wake to him filling her in reality. A beastly grin crosses his face as he rolls over her, carefully spreading her thighs to make room for him. His fingers find her slit, still wet and spread from their love making the night before, and presses in. His eye never leaves his wife’s face, watching as pleasure blooms across it while he prepares her for his cock.

“Beloved,” he sighs, removing his fingers to align himself. Leaning down to kiss her throat, he gently pushes in, groaning at how warm and wet she feels. Byleth lets out a sleepy whimper, but doesn’t awaken, which is fine with Dimitri as he starts a solid pace, watching with fascination as his beautiful bride reacts.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” he moans, running his hands up and down her sides as he continues to fuck her. He watches happily as his wife finally stirs, blinking soft green eyes up at him before letting out a wanton moan and wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Dimitri,” she sighs, her hands reaching up. He catches her left hand and kisses her ring, grinning as he uses the distraction to go harder. Her eyes roll back and she moans again, bucking her hips against his own.

“Was this what you wanted, Love?” he asks, his voice feeling rough like the fuck he was giving his wife.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, grabbing his hair to pull him down into a kiss. He indulges her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hoist her up. She squeaks in surprise before moaning as he uses his strength to move her up and down his cock. Dimitri grins, the beast peering through his human façade, as he fucks her harder still. They want an heir, a child in her belly. These morning and night fucks are to make sure that she’s pregnant, that his seed has taken.

_That my goddess is mine alone_, the beast within him growls as he coaxes an orgasm from Byleth before releasing his seed deep inside her. They pause, gasping for air, before gravity takes over and flops both of them on the bed. They yelp in surprise, blinking at each other, before laughter bubbles through. They hold onto each other, laughing and smiling and pressing soft kisses against bared skin.

“Good morning,” Byleth whispers, adoration shining in green eyes.

“Good morning,” Dimitri replies, staring down at his personal goddess with reverence.


End file.
